Ghost
by GKingOfFez
Summary: 'The Doctor will save me', you think, over and over again, and you wish he'd hurry up about it, because you've decided you don't really like the constant emotional turmoil he's putting you through. - a fic inspired by a Tumblr post.


…

_This has been sitting on my computer for god knows how long, just waiting to be completed. And here it is! I think I'm rather proud of it actually, especially in keeping it first person and somewhat gender neutral. Although I don't think I specifically mentioned it, the Doctor in this one is supposed to be the Tenth._

_Anyway, enjoy, and thanks for reading!_

…

You're running down a hallway with a monster on your heels, something you're sure you'll never get used to because the feeling of exhilaration and fear seems brand new every time. The Doctor has you by the hand and is pulling you along behind him. You feel like your arm might be ripped off from his faster pace and longer legs, but you don't stop or let go out of fear. The rest of your small party runs a few feet behind.

Just when you think your lungs might give out, you spy an open door up ahead, and the Doctor yells _In there!_ and next thing you know, you all dash through it. You both help push the door shut behind the last person with a heavy clang. The Doctor finally relinquishes his hold on your hand to pull out his sonic screwdriver and flash the blue tip over the lock, just in time, as a second later there is a bang and a screech as the monster crashes into it. Several more bangs follow as the monster's powerful arms smash at the heavy door, the sound reverberating around the room. Everyone jumps minutely at each stroke.

_Did you seriously just trap us in here? _You ask the Doctor incredulously over the sound. Wheezing to catch your breath, you cross your arms heatedly.

_Well, would you rather be locked out there_, he replies with a cheeky grin. He's not even slightly puffed out, and you scowl back at him, even though you're smiling on the inside.

_What the hell was that thing? What did it do to Charlie and Sam? _One of the members of your party, a young man with stubbly cheeks, says with wide eyes.

Suddenly, the image of two people, and man and a woman, each with one of the monster's bony hands wrapped around their upper arms, comes before your eyes, along with the bright flash of light that followed.

_It looked like they were sucked into somewhere else. I swear, they were their one second and gone the next!_ The young man cries out, obviously panicking, his eyes wide and fanatic.

With a glance at you, the Doctor walks right up to the man and places his large hands on his shoulder, looking him right in the eye. _I'm sorry I really, really am, but your friends are probably dead,_ the Time Lord says, and he's using his sad, sincere voice that you've only heard once or twice. The young man looks like he's about to cry, and you can see the other people's faces fall, their shoulders slumping. One woman's sniffles echo slightly in the silent room, and you feel an overwhelming feeling of sympathy stinging at the corners of your eyes.

Then you realise it's quiet. With narrowing eyes, you turn around to face the door, and see that the monster has stopped banging. _Doctor,_ you say quietly, taking a step towards it, _It's stopped._

_What? _The Doctor says behind you.

_It's stopped banging. Do you think maybe it's gone-_

You never get to finish your sentence, for suddenly the door flies open with an explosive force that rattles the entire room and makes you yell out in surprise. The monster barrels into the room with a primal, enraged screech, coming right for you. The others are screaming, and you turn to run, adrenaline and fear pumping in your ears. You see the Doctor shouting your name and his arm reaching towards you; just a few steps away-

Then you feel something yank at your forearm, and suddenly your vision is filled with a blinding white light which seems to _burn_. You yell out in pain.

…

Darkness.

…

You open your eyes, and there's the Doctor and you cry out in relief (at least you think you do, as you hear nothing of it). But then he stumbles forward, his arm outstretched, reaching towards you, mutely mouthing out your name and a brief split second of white overcomes your vision. You've seen this before. Then you see it again, the Doctor rushes forward once more, his face filled with fear and his hand reaching out as if you grab you and pull you to safety, but it doesn't. Instead, it starts again, the same image over and over. It takes you twenty repeats to realise that the monster had got you, to remember it's bony hand on your arm, and another ten after that to realise you're probably dead.

After that you lose count as the panic sets in, and it becomes all too pressingly clear that you can't hear anything. The silence surrounding you is oppressive and absolute on your eardrums. You try to scream, you scream for so long your throat feels swollen and you're gasping for oxygen, but you don't hear a second of it. You try turning away from the last image of the Doctor you have, even closing your eyes to get away from his tortured face, but it doesn't work. It's almost like the image is burned into your retinas, the same few seconds repeated time and time again. You cry.

…

You start to lose track of time after a while. You could have been like this for hours or days, but you don't know, and you're starting to think that maybe it'll never stop. You pass the time through memories. In the small part of your mind that isn't taken up by the repeat, you run down corridors hand in hand with the Doctor, laughing and gasping for breath at the same time. You think of the first time you met, when he'd asked you to come with him. You'd asked if it was going to be dangerous and he'd replied, _Of course it'll be. But as long as you're with me, you'll be fine._ He'd winked at you, and you'd both smiled.

You believed him, and off you went in the TARDIS, time and space at your fingertips.

…

_The Doctor will save me,_ you think fervently to yourself, over and over like a mantra in your head. You're certain of it. He'd said,_ promised_, that he wasn't going to let anything happen to you. He'd said you'd be safe. You've memorised every detail of his face, his eyes seeming much older than you remember them being, and know the placement of every single hair on his head. You spend several cycles laughing hysterically at him, and several after that crying at the devastated, desperate look on his face. You don't hear a second of it.

_The Doctor will save me,_ you think, over and over again, and you wish he'd hurry up about it, because you've decided you don't really like the constant emotional turmoil he's putting you through.

…

You start thinking about your family more and more. Your parent's faces seem blurry in your memory, like a poorly taken photograph. You start to forget things about your childhood, the facts vanishing into the surrounding nothingness. You try to hold on, but all you see is the Doctor.

Even the corridors are getting fuzzy.

…

In anger, you start thinking that if you'd never met him, this wouldn't have happened, you wouldn't be dead. You start _wishing_ you'd never met him, wishing so hard it physically aches. You feel the tears, but never hear the sobs. You start to hate his stupid face, wish you could punch it, punch the mocking expression off of it. The scene does nothing but enrage you more with every single repeat. You hate him even more, until the hate boils over and you can't take it anymore. You flail through the darkness, trying to find something, anything to smash, to destroy, to kill. You jab at the image, at the Doctor's face, until exhaustion takes over and you stop completely, trying to silently tear in oxygen.

…

You try gouging the image out of your eyes with your fingernails. It doesn't help, just hurts.

…

You start forgetting things even more in the midst of pain, silence and anger. You forget which planet you're from, although you wonder why that even matters. You've long forgotten what you look like or what your voice sounds like or what species you are. You don't remember why you're here in this place, and most of all, no matter how hard you try to think, you can't remember why you see the same thing over and over again, or why someone is trying to reach out to you. You think it's important, but you don't remember why.

You only remember one thing, one sentence, tumbling around in your brain.

_The Doctor will save me_.

_The Doctor will save_.

_The Doctor will._

_Doctor._

Even that fades eventually.

…

The second things change, you notice. There is a subtle shift, and suddenly you're standing somewhere different from where you are- where. You blink, and it stays different. More than that, when you can close your eyes and all you see is darkness, and it's inviting. You stay in the darkness, and it welcomes you with open arms. You want to stay forever.

Then something happens that scares you out of your wits, and your eyes fly open. You _hear_ something. You think you do, anyway, but you don't dare to hope. It's probably just your imagination anyway.

But then you keep hearing things. The sounds are garbled, they sound alien and far away, and then you realise you can understand them.

_Open your eyes._

No, you try to say. You wonder what that means. You feel confused, both understanding and not understanding at the same time, which scares you out of your wits.

_Open your eyes, _the sound repeats, and you think, voice. Person. Human. You wonder what those words mean, and then you open your eyes, and there is a person, a person you know very well. It's the person from the repeat, the repeating repeating repeat, that you remember very well. He'd tried to reach for you, but he never quite did. You close your eyes again.

The person says another word, and you think, _name_. You think you know it, but not quite, try to grasp at it with tiny fingers in your mind, but it slips away like sand... (you wonder what sand is)

_Open your eyes. Come on, you can do it._

You do again, and you see him. He smiles, but his face is very sad, almost as sad as you remem-member. You see this person doesn't repeat, though, doesn't hold out his hand to reach you, doesn't jump backwards again and again and again and again and-

_Save,_ you say, and it feels so strange and terrifying, to feel your lips move and sound escaping them.

_I'm sorry, _he (is he a he?) says, _I'm sorry I couldn't save you._

You hold out your arm to him, the movements slow, and feel your tongue move heavily. _Save, _you repeat. You know that word very well, too very well. _Save, sorry, save. _Your voice sounds slow and sluggish, and a dull familiar ache has taken residence in your throat.

He reaches out as well, as though to take your outstretched hand, and something stirs deep within you when his hand passes right through yours, as though yours isn't even there in the first place. As though you're nothing but a ghost, like he is real and you are not. Something prickles at your eyes. You blink.

_I'm sorry. You're not real. You're a ghost of a fragment of a shard, _he says. You think he looks so, so, so old when he does.

_Ghost_, you whisper. You want to close your eyes again, but can't tear yourself away from him.

_That… thing that got you, it fed off of memories and emotions, the more concentrated and intense, the better. It stuck you in a tiny pocket of bent reality, left you there alone with nothing and then fed off of your resulting emotions. It left you like a trapped animal, to destroy yourself. _You see tears welling on the rims of his eyes, and he looks away from you briefly to run a hand through his hair.

_It's gone now, though, I got the better of it. I got it, but… it was far too late to save you. Right now, you're nothing- less than nothing. You're a shadow of what you once were, everything that made you _you, _made you_ human_ has been sucked out and devoured. And… it's all my fault._

You don't understand any of it, but you think you should. You don't know. You think you kind of do, but you don't at all. You remember fear, and a bony hand on your arms, and the repeat repeat repear, and you remember the words, the Last Words.

You don't know why they were the last or what they mean, but you say them.

_Doctor_, you say, _Doctor will save me._

The person looks at you with shock, but it soon morphs back into sadness. He reaches out as though to touch your shoulder, but stops himself, perhaps knowing this time that it will simply pass through you, because you're not really there. Not really there…

_I can't save you. You've lost too much, you're a… few codes of data floating in the air. Footprints in the sand. It's a miracle I was even able to establish this much of a connection, that there was enough left of you to-_

You don't understand, the words, so you say it again. You think he doesn't understand.

_Doctor, save, me._

The person looks at you with a wretched look, before scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair again. He glances away again, but his eyes come back to rest on your face. _I can't_, he whispers, his voice contorting through his lips. He looks back at you, and suddenly he's not just old, he's ancient, like a million year old storm still blowing and raging in the middle of an ocean.

You wonder what a storm is, and if it's as beautiful to look at.

The person takes a deep breath, and his face seems to lose all of its emotion. What's left is something blank and resolute.

_I'm sorry, I really, really am. But the best I can do for you is shut you off completely. Everything will stop, you'll be at peace, no more pain, no more suffering, just… nothing. Would you like that?_

_Peace, _you repeat. You think it must mean something good, because it makes you feel… content. _Darkness? _You ask.

_Yes, darkness. Darkness forever, no more ghosts, no more pain, just darkness… and nothing._

That sounds nice. You suddenly feel lighter, as though a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

He smiles at you. It seems strange and strained, but it's there. You try to smile back, but you don't remember how. He reaches into his pocket.

_Ghost, _you say, _nothing. Darkness. _

_I'm sorry, _he replies. He lifts up his hand, and there is a blue and silver device in it. He points the tip at you and a ragged breath escapes him.

_Doctor_, you say, and he twitches just slightly. Suddenly you remember, the thoughts coming out of nowhere and seeming to wrap you in a shock or realisation. Its him! It's him, it's him, he is the repeat repeat, he is the Doctor.

_Thank you, so much, _he simply says, with the hint of a reassuring smile. He presses a button and the tip of the device lights up a vivid blue. His face is hard, and his eyes are watery. He looks as devastated as you remember from the repeat, maybe even more. _You were brilliant,_ he tells you.

_Doctor will save me,_ you say, and you feel panicked. There's something you need to say, something important. There is a strange sound, that seems so familiar, yet so far away.

_Doctor will save,_ you say louder. The person's arm drops loosely to his side, and his whole body seems to slump, head rolling forward.

_Doctor, save,_ you yell as every blurs and fades away to nothingness.

_Doctor,_ you scream.

_Doctor,_ you shriek.

_Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doc-, Doc-, Doc, Doc_

...

…..

…..

…

…

Darkness.

…

You remember.

Everything.

….

_The inspiration for this story came from a Tumblr post, if you wanted a little context or to see the gif which sparked it, here it is: http:(dash) (dash) the biological metacrisis (no spaces) dot tumblr dot com post/49045678651/what-if-youre-stuck-in-a-vitual-w orld-and-this_


End file.
